


Eyes That Don't Reflect

by Shiroyuki_Nomaeru



Category: Hyouka & Kotenbu Series
Genre: F/M, Relationship(s), Romance, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 07:06:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23347399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shiroyuki_Nomaeru/pseuds/Shiroyuki_Nomaeru
Summary: Originally intended to be a one-shot. Chapter 001 is not rated MA, as it just includes the final parts from Volume 06 and a direct continuation therefrom.The first chapter just turned out to be... very platonic. It just became a set up for a long work which will most probably graduate (slowly) to MA with further chapters (should they happen to be written).https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13528931/1/Eyes-That-Don-t-Reflect
Relationships: Chitanda Eru/Oreki Houtarou, Fukube Satoshi/Ibara Mayaka
Comments: 5
Kudos: 58





	Eyes That Don't Reflect

**Author's Note:**

> My story is set after the events of Hyouka Volume 6. So I have included an excerpt of the final two parts from (a Japanese to Mandarin to English translation of) Honobu Yonezawa’s book in the beginning of my work. Note that this was a great translation job initially. But then I reworked it to such an extent that the authors intentions and styles were not preserved, and certain details were added, that did not exist in Yonezawa’s original work. At best it become my retelling of the general storyline. 
> 
> However (after the Zero Requiem) I changed it around completely, out of respect for the translators, (not to mention my cynical apprehension of my own abilities—or lack thereof) so now most of the excerpt is exactly as the translators wrote, with only a few complementary tweaks—made mostly for aesthetic and grammatical reasons.  
> My original begins after the line break; however, I would recommend that you still read from the start as my writing style is a little different from the translators/editors.  
> P.S. The rating will most definitely change to MA with further chapters, and there will almost certainly be explicit content (like in my other stories—one of which can be found on this profile).
> 
> Koten-bu Series ( 古典部 ) –– Classic Literature Club Series  
> Hyouka (氷菓 )  
> Volume 06 - Even Though I'm Told I Now Have Wings  
> Author/s: Honobu Yonezawa  
> Translator/ s: Manlyflower & Mayakyaa  
> Editor/s: Random Passerby / qhp, bombasticplastic, erdyburb

**CHAPTER 001**

Jinde was an area encircled by an array of undulating, coruscating hills of various shades of green and blue that made it a rather eye-catching spectacle for those seeing it for the first time. Rare though tourists were in this region of Japan, nary so far, had failed to be mesmerized by this view.

On paper, Jinde was included as a part Kamiyama City in all district administration matters, for the sake of efficiency, among other things. However, in most other matters, they were most dissimilar. For starters, the two were connected only by narrow mountain roads, which until very recently had been treacherous paths of travel. As such, the residences, and more importantly residents of each had been mostly separate, sharing only the fertile soil and fresh air of the region.

The vast emotive and cultural differences aside though, the physical distance between the two wasn’t as massive—Chitanda making the commute to school every day was an indicator of this. Trekking up and down the mountain road made for an arduous journey, but one could manage it in less than thirty minutes by bike.

I read my watch; it was only two minutes till half past four. There was no time to waste. 

As I stepped out of the cultural centre—assuming that I would have to make the trip by bike—a bus pulled up in front of me, and the door opened almost as if it were a chauffeured car arriving to pick up a celebrity. I was completely dumbfounded, not unlike (as I later came to realize) a deer in headlights, and found myself unable to move for a moment. Not only would the ride certainly be faster than going by bike, I also wouldn’t have to take the time to find the bus stop once I got there. Still, what unbelievable luck I had, for a bus that came only once every hour to show up just when I needed it most. This most certainly had to be a trap, didn’t it? 

Oh, and what a trap it must be! The route direction had to be different. If I were to board this bus of fortune, I would end up trapped in an aluminium cage, reinforced by steel and societal convention, being whisked away in the opposite direction, wouldn’t I? How smart was I to realize that ahead of time? I peeked at the signboard to see where this huge detour would have taken me: ‘Heading to Jinde’.

“Ah… well… I guess I’m getting on.”

My initial moment of shock notwithstanding, my mind had been racing the entire time. As it turned out, I had (without intending to) said this out loud to the bus, which now seemed to have become tired of my existence and was only moments away from departing. I jogged up to it and got on, sitting in a nearby seat while sighing deeply, and heard the customary sound like a deflating inner tube as the bus door closed, before the unassuming and unchanged female voice rang out from the speakers, “The bus will start moving.” 

It began to slowly inch forward with the announcement. It was apparently the kind of bus where you paid when you got off. 

I had wanted to briefly search for Ibara before going to Jinde, but the unexpected arrival of the bus had forced a change of plans. “Don’t be late for the bus!” said some commentator I had seen on TV at some point in the vague past. After settling in, I wondered if I even had money on me. I was certain that I had brought my wallet with me. I searched my pockets for my wallet and confirmed that I did in fact, have a single 1,000 yen note. Having narrowly avoided a future in which I’d be forced to wash dishes to compensate for not having paid the bus fare, I wondered whether I’d have to put off buying the book I’d wanted for a little while longer. I cursed the heavens… but—well—I guess that’s life. 

Including me, there were fewer than 10 people in the bus. After having left the cultural centre, it took us a while to reach the older districts. Thanks to the narrow streets, the roads couldn’t support a lot of traffic, so they were doomed to congestion, because even as the residences became more and more three-dimensional in spread, the roads remained a two-dimensional entity. I absentmindedly considered a future with bridges and better yet, extensive, underground tunnels being the networks of transportation, I peered outside the windows as a flurry of familiar scenery flowed by: the confectionary shop with delicious yomogi dango, the bookstore with empty top shelves because its elderly owner could no longer reach them, the drycleaners who used to sell kimono fabric when I was still young, the convenience store that put the tobacco shop out of business... 

The next bus stop was announced over the speakers, and someone pressed the button to get off. Two left and one got on. The next stop was flagged as well. I was about to look at my watch, but I forcefully pulled my eyes away. Regardless of how many ways there might have been to reach Chitanda, I had already chosen the bus. I’d probably just panic if I saw the time and that’d do absolutely nothing to get me there faster. What I could do was to think.

The bus finally cleared the old district. It passed through a crossroads with a gas station the size of four tanker aircrafts on one side, and a hamburger joint complete with a drive-through on the other. We finally picked up speed as the bus pulled onto the bypass. 

I rested my elbow on the window frame—absentmindedly taking in the scenery—and sorted out the basics of ratiocination firmly in my mind, before proceeding to bully my unwilling brain into thinking more systematically about the problem at hand.

At first, Yokote-san had referred to Chitanda as “the Chitandas’ daughter.” Only after while did she start calling her “that child.” I couldn’t say anything for sure, but I thought that she made a strong effort to not call her “that child” in front of Danbayashi-san. Some might pass it off as her simply minding her manners around others, but I myself felt like it was expressing something more complex—something that she couldn’t talk casually around non-relatives. 

Yokote-san had called Chitanda “the Chitandas’ daughter,” “the successor to the Chitanda estate,” and then—only after everything else—she finally revealed that she was her niece. I didn’t know any of the details, and wasn’t sure I ought to have, but when I thought about the Eru Chitanda that I knew—the president of Kamiyama High School’s Classics Club—being enveloped by that title, I couldn’t stop the waves of nausea. I couldn’t even determine what was causing them. 

Chitanda had gotten off the bus. This much I knew. So why did she do that? I had nothing in particular to do while I waited to reach my destination, and the same thoughts continued to circle around in my head. She was… unique. But now was not the time for me to ascertain what my feelings for her were. Right now, finding her was paramount.

The gentle rocking of the bus as it traversed a rather rough patch of road snapped me out of my reverie. There were several mountain roads that connected Jinde and Kamiyama, and the road that the bus took was different than the one I normally took when going by bike, so I was rather uncertain as to how long I would have to wait. 

Soon after, the bus finally neared the mountainous area. As we passed through a series of cleared hills, the curves starting swaying sharply left and right, and with them, my body. The feeling of carsickness inevitably resurfaced memories of around this time last year when we were on the hot springs trip that Ibara had planned. I’m not sure if it’s true or not, but I heard that some cases of carsickness are purely mental; so, as I ascended the slopes, I came up with a song called “I’m Not Afraid of No Carsickness” and let myself be cradled by its soothing melody. 

The growling sounds of the aged and labouring engine started to fade away, and the bus entered a straight stretch of road beyond the curves. We stopped at a traffic signal, something I felt I hadn’t seen in a long time, and a female voice called out an announcement, “Next stop is South Jinde. Next stop is South Jinde.”

I pressed the button to request the stop. Just as the bus had started to move with the green light, it began to slow down to yet another halt, the doors eventually opening. This time, the driver himself called out in a hoarse, yet strangely rhythmic voice, “We’ve arrived at Sou—th Jinde.” 

I paid the fare and got off the bus, and my first action was to take a deep breath. I thought I would’ve been okay, but I guess I ended up getting a little sick after all, and the fresh air felt wonderful. It was supposed to have rained in Jinde, but I didn’t see a single trace of water on the road’s surface. I guess it was July, after all, so even if the sun had only been out for a little bit, that would’ve been enough to quickly dry small amounts of water. Although, looking at it now, the previously blue sky had become rather murky with grey clouds. There seemed to be indicators of rain lurking in the air. This wasn’t good. I didn’t have an umbrella. 

I scanned my surroundings and noticed that the road the bus had taken was built along an incline. The land on its right side sloped upward, and the land on the left went gently down. Below were fields that were efficiently constructed, sparing no inch of land. They radiated a deep green, fostered by the warmth of the summer, and gave off a vague scent I found rather pleasant but could not place. The many houses were built far apart, dotting the scene before me as if they played a supporting role. I couldn’t get a grasp on the actual distance, but I could tell that some ways off, the landscape started to slope up once more. Beyond even those green hills towered the Kamikakiuchi mountain range with its remnants of ancient snow. 

“The storehouse...” 

As I muttered this, I looked around once more. Yokote-san had told me that I would be able to see it on the right side of the road when going into Jinde. That meant it was on the hill’s incline. 

I quickly spotted it. I was anxious at first, wondering what I would do if there were multiple storehouses, but I could spot only the one after scanning the area. It wasn’t too far away either, from where I was standing. The bottom half of the storehouse was hidden from view by a wooden fence surrounding it, so all I could confirm was that it had a triangular roof, what looked to be plastered white walls, and a set of double doors on the second story for ventilation and lighting. It didn’t look like there were any buildings bordering it; the sight of the lonely storehouse on the slope presented an almost bizarre image.

I briskly made my way across the street and was about to head straight for the storehouse when I recalled what Yokote-san had told me; I should make my way there in a manner that didn’t attract attention. I was a little annoyed by how she said it as well, but I couldn’t ignore a request from the woman who told me where Chitanda was. Just as I was told, I adopted what I hoped was a confident, yet surreptitious mien, and began to search for the house with hedges, resisting the inkling that an outsider would only see me as ‘shifty’.

A few dozen meters away from the storehouse, I noticed a home that seemed to fit the bill. It was built on a level foundation and had a tile roof; through a gap in the hedges, I could see a gatepost next to a large tree. It couldn’t compare to Chitanda’s estate, but it was still an impressive sight. 

“I have to go there, huh?” 

Although I had permission to enter, I still felt nervous about the whole ordeal. Maybe it was all a set-up orchestrated by Yokote-san, and the second I entered, I’d be apprehended on breaking and entering charges. I really didn’t think that would be the case, though. 

I checked my watch: it was 04:50. I estimated the bus ride took about twenty minutes. Then I suppose what Yokote-san said about leaving at 01:00 and arriving at 01:30 was just an estimate. The pamphlet said that the next bus for the cultural centre was scheduled for a 05:10 arrival. 

“This should work out then.”

There were twenty minutes until the next bus came, so all I had to do was pull Chitanda out of the storehouse. If she wasn’t there, well, I did everything I could have. Ibara probably wouldn’t blame me either. 

I felt something cold hit my cheek. I touched my face, only to realize it was wet. Black spots began to litter the street. It had started to rain. 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

It’s all too common for these evening showers to escalate into heavy downpours. I had really tried my hardest today, but it looks like the heavens weren’t going to grant me even a moment of relief. I let out a long exhale and sprinted over to the house with hedges. 

I went around her garden and stood in front of the storehouse. 

I couldn’t say that the rain was as violent as an evening downpour. At most, it was a light shower; but even then, the surrounding scenery appeared to be hazy. The eaves of the storehouse roof didn’t extend out very far. I wouldn’t say that it was great cover, but I managed to stay dry underneath since it wasn’t windy. Thanks to the wooden fence, even though I must have looked like a lost high school student as I stood there, I didn’t have to worry about being spotted. I was thankful for this, but at the same time, the design could have attracted would-be robbers. I suppose she did say that it wasn’t being used anymore; they probably weren’t too worried about it. 

The storehouse door was thick and plastered over. I initially thought it was fireproof as well, but in fact, it was made from wood. Rivets—perhaps the size of a baby’s fist—were hammered into the door forming a line from top to bottom making it look extremely sturdy. There was a hole that indicated you could padlock the door, but the most important part, the lock itself, was missing. I guess I didn’t need a key to enter. I started muttering to myself while running my finger along the rivets. “Well then, I wonder what I should do.”

First of all, I had to confirm that Chitanda was actually here. I figured I could just knock, and raised my hand accordingly. 

At that moment, I felt like I heard a sweet, refreshing sound mixed among the cacophony of the falling rain. I considered many things in that moment, but in the end, curiosity got the better of me, and I brought my ear to the door.

“Ah... Ah... Ah...”

For a moment, I wondered what it was, but I figured it out quickly: vocal practice. In order to make it in time to perform on stage with the choir, she was warming up here. As I realized it, I subconsciously tapped my fingers against the door along with the alluring rhythm of her voice—which turned out to be an unexpectedly effective source of warmth. 

The sounds from inside the storehouse promptly stopped. To someone inside, my tapping probably sounded like something out of a horror film. I called out to put Chitanda at ease. 

“Chitanda, are you there?” 

I pressed my ear to the door again but heard nothing. I spoke once more, this time keeping my ear in the same spot. 

“Are you there?” 

A trembling voice whispered out. “...Oreki-san?” 

She sounded like I had never heard her before. Chitanda being here was entirely Yokote-san’s prediction, so I had given a lot of thought to the possibility that she was wrong, but it looked like everything worked out. I could hear Chitanda’s voice. Although the door looked thick, it must have been quite thin; her voice felt unexpectedly close. These were only the thoughts I allowed myself to think though… I had expected to hear her voice any number of ways, and scared was one of them. What I had never expected though, was the effect her voice could have on me. I had heard people terrified before, few and far between to be sure, but definitely to a fair degree. I had thought I had prepared myself. I was mistaken.

“Why are you here?” came her voice again. This time a little firmer. 

Did she want to know my reason for coming, or how I knew where to go? I had no idea, so I responded with both. 

“Ibara was searching for you, so I came to help. Thanks to Yokote-san’s advice I ended up here.”

“I see...”

After a slight pause, she continued with a voice sapped of its strength.

“I’m sorry.”

There was no reason for her to apologize to me, so I pretended not to have heard a thing.

“It’s hard to hear you… Can I open the door?”

Her response came from terribly far away. 

“…Yes.”

My dread crept up again. My heart gave a very painful lurch. I realized that this, unexpectedly, was only because she was the one whom was hurt. I was slowly coming to a realization. I did not want to see her in pain. Perhaps it was cowardly of me. I probably should have done something much more reaffirming than what I did. What I deluded myself into believing was in her best interests.

“I won’t if you don’t want me to. I’m sorry.” 

Yokote-san said that this was something of a secret hideaway for Chitanda. Given the situation, she would probably forgive me if I barged in without asking, but I still felt awkward about the whole thing. The rain wasn’t all that heavy, and I didn’t really mind talking through the door like this. But as I tried to convince myself of this, Chitanda suddenly replied, her voice panicked and flustered.

“No, it’s nothing like that! It’s just... I’m just a mess right now.”

A small silence ensued, and then Chitanda started to speak in a voice that sounded like she was mocking herself. “You must be sick of me, Oreki-san. Even though I have responsibilities, I ran away like this. I’m sure I’ve caused so much trouble for everyone. I’m just... the absolute worst.” 

Sure, I had thought it was strange, but never once had I gotten sick of her. 

“Well you didn’t make it for the 2:00 meeting time, but I’m sure you were planning on getting there before 6:00. I mean, you were doing vocal practice just now after all.”

She immediately fired a question.

“You were listening?!”

“Well, only at the end.” 

“...” 

“Rather than listening, it was more like I just ended up hearing it.” 

For a little while—though it felt like much longer—only the sound of the falling rain reached my ears. It became difficult to stand facing the door beneath the narrow eaves, so I leaned my back against it. I cleared my throat and softly spoke once more. 

“So, how about it? Do you think you can go?” 

She responded in a timid voice. 

“You’re not going to just tell me to go?” 

Chitanda could not see it, but my shoulders relaxed. 

“If you can’t go, I won’t force you. Danbayashi-san was getting all worked up about finding a replacement. I’m sure there’s a singer or two who could take your place.” 

“I… couldn’t do something like that.” 

I had never heard her sound as frail as she did in that moment. 

A small snail had climbed the wooden fence in front of me; when did it get there, I wondered. As I absentmindedly watched it slowly move, I started to speak. 

“But you can’t sing, can you?” 

For a little while, there was no reply. Finally, I heard a voice that seemed to be cautiously searching for something. 

“Oreki-san, do you… know anything?” 

“No, not really. I’m sorry, I said something that sounded like I did. I don’t know anything.”

A softer voice—one with a little more life—responded. 

“Of course not, there must be something wrong with me.” 

The blades of wild grass at my feet were enveloped by the light shower; they stooped over, ever so slightly, under the water’s weight. The snail on the fence looked as if it was trying to climb, but it hadn’t made any progress whatsoever. 

“I don’t know everything, but I feel like I might understand a little.” Why had Chitanda gotten off the bus? What kind of expression was on Chitanda’s face, I wondered. I heard her voice respond, perhaps sounding somewhat like a child who was pestering me to tell them a story. 

“Please tell me.” 

What would happen if I did tell her? If I was truly right about the feelings she held inside of her, would I be able to give her at least a little salvation? I had no guarantee I was even right in the first place. This was absurd. It was better to simply stay quiet. 

I couldn’t hear anything from beyond the door. She must have been waiting with bated breath. 

I looked at my watch; there was still a little time before the bus was to arrive. 

I felt like there was a folk story that fit this situation. What was my role in it? The wise man? The strong one? Perhaps I was the dancer who opened the door with her absurd dance. Fine, I guess. If the star of the show wants it, I had to tell her everything. Even if it was wrong and disappointing, I had to say it, even though I was reluctant to recognize her control over me. 

“Let’s see. Was it perhaps—” 

I took a single breath and looked up, through the ceaseless rain, into the dark sky. 

“—that you were told you didn’t have to succeed your family’s business?” 

I heard nothing but the rain. All my senses were overwhelmed with its soft white noise, shhh-shh-shhh... 

The trepidation was getting to me, so I felt the urge to explain myself.

“A little while back, Ibara brought up a strange story. It was about a cup of coffee that was too sweet. You were spacing out that day—certainly not your usual self. Initially, I just thought that everyone had those kinds of days, but then, as I left, I noticed the book you were reading; that image hasn’t left my mind. It was a career guide. What kind of college should you go to after high school, what kind of job should you pursue, what will you eventually do with your life—it was that kind of book.” 

Although I should’ve been safe from the rain, my feet were a little wet. There was no chill from it, though. It was a lukewarm summer rain. My breathing became it a little easier.

“We’re in our second year of high school. Maybe it’s only natural for us to be reading those kinds of books… but I thought it was a little strange. Ibara and Satoshi might be thinking about where they want to go in life, but you’re different. At our first shrine visit of the year in January and at the living doll festival in April, I saw you act as the decided successor of the Chitanda household. You had chosen your path in life far sooner than the rest of us—at least that was supposed to have been the case. So why did I see you staring at a career guide?” 

At the time, I had carelessly imagined she was just reading about a different career path that she wouldn’t pursue. With the events of today, though, I had started to consider an entirely different possibility. 

“Then came today’s choir festival. I heard from Ibara that you’d gone missing. I knew you must have had a reason for running away. It was only after I read the lyrics that you were supposed to sing that I got this idea.” 

I read the lyrics in the pamphlet at the cultural centre, but I didn’t know which part was Chitanda’s solo until I managed to ask Danbayashi-san. 

“Satoshi mentioned something to me: in his works, Sandou Ejima often praised the common values of his day without holding back and, as a result, they became too preachy—he was never truly considered top class.” 

“Ah, I beseech thee. I, too, strive to live in the unrestricted skies.” I said monotonously, looking up at the darkening sky. 

“In your part, you sang directly about the unparalleled admiration of freedom.” 

“It was thanks to Satoshi that I was able to connect the strange feeling I had reading the lyrics with the disappearance of Chitanda. When playing shogi with his relatives, he told me that, while he was fine with throwing a game, it was the act of saying ‘I lose’ that didn’t sit well with him.”

“I have a certain memory of something similar. I had gone to a relative’s wedding a long time ago, and I ended up having to sing a hymn. I should’ve been fine with singing it because the whole thing was completely surface-deep honouring Jesus and hailing Maria, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. To praise that in which I don’t believe… isn’t that just wronging the people who earnestly worship Christ?” 

Lies place a heavy burden on the heart. 

“If the lyrics were about something else, it’d be a different story. But, as you are now, perhaps you find yourself unable to sing a song praising freedom?” 

I wondered if Chitanda was still there beyond the riveted door. She hadn’t spoken, and I couldn’t hear a single sound come through. I closed my eyes, and simply continued to talk, as if giving a monologue. 

“Up until a little while ago, your future—forgive me for saying this—wasn’t what I would call ‘free’. I’m sure you had some input, but the one thing that wouldn’t change was the fact that you’d succeed the Chitanda household in the end. If that were still the case, then I don’t see why you’d have any trouble singing. But not only does it seem like your practices went normally, you also didn’t decline being given the part. That means your circumstances must’ve changed since then.” 

It probably happened the day before Ibara told us the story of the overly sweet coffee.

“If you became unable to sing it in these past couple days... wasn’t it because you became ‘free’ yourself?”

I could hear neither a confirmation nor denial.

“You are someone who was able to do what she wanted while being told that she’d someday inherit the family business. You had thoroughly internalized that as an unchangeable truth. With that in mind, what would happen if you were suddenly told that that wasn’t the case? What would happen if you were suddenly told by your parents or someone else that you didn’t have to worry about being the successor and that you should live your own life?” 

Yokote-san mentioned that that girl was the successor of the Chitanda estate and that she would definitely come because she understood her responsibilities; but what would happen if that Chitanda no longer fit in that role? 

“You would probably have no idea what to do.” 

I am someone whose shoulders bore no grand role and whose vocal dedication to an energy-saving lifestyle delivered to him idle days. With that in mind, I shouldn’t have been able to honestly understand any of what Chitanda was thinking. I shouldn’t have been able to understand anything at all—and yet, I still came up with this answer. It was all kinds of ridiculous. Truth be told, I refused to think about why. Truth be told… Chitanda was not nearly the weakest at that shed that evening… she wasn’t even the one who was running away.

I opened my eyes, and I kept running.

“In front of so many people, could you sing a song in which you yearn for freedom? ‘Of course, you’ve been entrusted with an important solo, so by all accounts you should follow through. You’ll just end up putting your fellow choir members into a tough situation. You should put aside your situation and sing, as this is also part of your role. Don’t make this all about you—’ I guess all of those sound like pretty rational arguments. I could see someone saying those things.” 

In reality, it’s pretty likely someone would tell her these things. Ibara wouldn’t. Satoshi definitely wouldn’t. But, even still, someone would.

“But I, even if my deductions were correct, I… wouldn’t blame you.”

After all, I had no right to. 

Although the rainy season had long since passed, the soft, silent shower showed no signs of weakening or strengthening. The snail on the fence had disappeared. Had he, slowly but surely, made his way to the top? Had he fallen to the grass below? I hadn’t seen. 

From beyond the closed door came a terribly soft voice. 

“Oreki-san.” 

“I’m listening.” 

“Even though I’m told I can now live freely... Even though I’m told I can choose what I want to do with my life... Even though I’m told that the Chitanda household will be fine somehow, so I don’t have to worry...” 

Her voice, changing as if descending into self-mockery, muttered one last thing I barely managed to catch. “Even though I’m told I now have wings, what am I supposed to do?” 

And with that, the storehouse became silent. 

As I thought of the burden that Chitanda has carried thus far, and of the burden she was told she no longer had to carry, I suddenly felt like I wanted to hit something with everything I had. I felt like I wanted to smash it—to injure my own hand and draw blood. 

I looked at my watch; it read 05:06. In less than four minutes, the bus bound for the cultural centre would arrive.

I had said everything I needed say and done everything I needed to do. Anything more I could have said… I was not brave enough to say. The rest, no matter how much it pained me, was for Chitanda to sort out. 

Becoming neither fiercer nor gentler, the rain continued to fall.

The sound of singing could not be heard from within the storehouse.

* * *

A few moments later, I heard the sound of the door creaking. I would have been lying if I had said I wasn’t nervous. Chitanda slowly stepped out of the shed with her face downturned as if ashamed to face me. I could not help but notice that even her red and puffy, cried-out face was extremely cute, before silently berating myself for not being more attentive to the fact that she was shivering. She did not have her overcoat on her. I realized she must have been shivering this entire time. I hurried to take off my jacket and offer it to her but she stopped me with rather weak hands, but not ones I could resist.

“I apologize for all the trouble I have caused you Oreki-san. I have done a lot of selfish things today, I shouldn’t indulge in any more.”

I felt my face get considerably warmer after hearing her voice (Had it always been so charming?), but nonetheless replied quickly “It was not a hassle, you should thank Ibara though, she must be worried sick even now.”

Her grip got a bit firmer, and her voice regained some of its usual steadiness as she replied, “Of course, I have caused a lot of trouble for a lot of people today. And we must hurry back, so I can apologize properly.” She tried her best to smile as she said this. I had seen her smile, ones quite more cheerful, often before without letting my heat race too much… so why did it beat so relentlessly now?

At a loss for words, I could only say “Yeah, we should…hurry” as I gratefully followed her lead back to the bus stop. Perhaps she just wanted to hide her face.

The bus ride back could not have been more different than my previous one. This time the familiar, alluring, scenic and majestic mountain landscapes simply refused to draw my attention to them. In fact, Chitanda was the only thing I could focus my attention on. I had previously felt like I had depleted my weekly quota for emotions, but her features seemed even more compelling now, than they ever had before. There was clearly something wrong.

The sudden sound of rather cute sniffles caught me off guard. Once again, feeling highly foolish for not having insisted earlier, I quickly took off my jacket and draped it around her shoulders. Sensing her oncoming objections, I stated firmly, “You have to be performing on stage soon; it would simply not do if after all our efforts, you could not perform because of a cold. I’ll live.” She still tried to protest, but her words were rather weak and unintelligible. Her face reddening, she turned her face away from mine and quietly mumbled, “Thank you… Oreki-san.”

I sensed that I was not the only one who was nervous. She too, did not meet my gaze, and was given to fits of slightly jerking her head to the side as if to say something, but then desisting, rather pink in the face. How adorable, I thought.

As such, the relatively short bus ride seemed even shorter to me. There were only three other passengers… perhaps due to the rain, and an uncomfortable silence reigned, even as the bus ambled along the wet roads of the countryside, but neither of us seemed to know how to resist its tyranny.

When at last we arrived at our destination, it seemed that Chitanda had regained her fortitude as we walked up to the cultural centre. She made forward to enter the glass doors of the community centre building quickly. A few quick steps into it though, she suddenly stopped… and gripping the hem of my dark-grey jacket tightly, seemed to be considering something very deeply. Her face flushed and she turned her face completely away from mine before whispering in a very deliberate, low sort of voice that barely reached me, “Thank you… Oreki.”

In that instant, something very innate and primal sparked within me. As if I had rubbed against the edge between order and chaos.

_The grey wolf slumbering in the dark cave stirred ever so slightly. Sensing an unknown colour on the horizon, it cracked open an eye… and for the first time saw a colour on the horizon, a colour so vibrant that thrummed with life. Perhaps this was it…_

Without so much as a backwards glance, she marched on and disappeared past the main entrance. All the better I thought, because she would only have seen my dumbfounded face had she turned around, expecting a reply. I had never heard her fail to use an appropriate honorific when talking with anyone, even Ibara. My heart felt like it had been jolted out of a long, dreary dream I did not know I was having. It made me excited. It made me afraid. She… made me want to hear voice… hear her say my name… one more time.

I took a few long moments to calm myself; after all, “It is a mistake to look too far ahead. Only one link in the chain of destiny can be handled at a time.” I breathed in and out slowly, and hummed along to the lyrics of one of my favourite songs, named, ironically enough… ‘Silence’ (A.N.: <Silence - n-buna ft. Sarah Furukawa>). Seven or so minutes, and 2 more songs later (A.N.: <More than Words - Sakamoto Maaya> & <So ist es immer - Banjamin Anderson>), I had regained most of my usual cognitive faculties, and limited Chitanda to a side—ignored at times, but never forgotten.

_The grey wolf made to stand. It struggled to its feet, but fell right back down. It wasn’t used to this exertion. Life was dangerous out there. It would hurt it in unexpected ways. It readied itself for its pitiful slumber once more, as it always had. The light on the horizon beckoned even as the wolf turned its head and closed its eyes… and this time, for the first time did not feel rested._

It did not take long for me to find Ibara and Satoshi, both of whom had already been informed of Chitanda’s arrival by Chitanda herself, and apologized to as well, for that matter—at length. Satoshi greeted me with his signature grin, exclaiming—rather too proudly in my opinion—that he knew all along that I would come through.

Ibara too, thanked me for my help (in a manner entirely unlike Satoshi). Her voice was rather more pointed and her gaze rather sharper than I had expected. I sensed she had gotten a rather incomplete explanation from Chitanda as to why she had gone missing at such a crucial time… which would certainly explain her demeanour, as if conflicted about whether to thank me for finding Chitanda, or to grab me by the collar and start demanding answers. Sensing she would say something along more aggressive lines sooner rather than later, I pre-empted, stating “Well, it’s thanks to you two that it all worked out… and Yokote-san. You two should really get going now, the evening performances should be beginning any minute and I need to go home to change out of these clothes.”

Ibara made to speak up, but thankfully Satoshi was a shade quicker. “In that case, I’ll accompany you Houtarou. We can get there and back quicker on my bicycle, you might miss Chitanda’s performance if you go on foot, the bus schedule will probably be disturbed due to rain.” I was grateful for his aid, he must have seen my bicycle in the parking section, but Ibara wasn’t to know that. I still wanted to protest, but perhaps my mind needed a break today, because not a single excuse came to mind when I saw a certain determined light in his eyes. Ibara seemed to have had enough, “Oreki, what exactly—” “—Mayaka.” Satoshi interjected in a louder-than-usual, firmly cheerful voice, “Houtarou might get catch a cold if he stays wet much longer, we should really get going. Besides, you should go help Chitanda get ready… she needs you.” Rather pink in the face and appearing mollified, she continued in a milder tone “Yeah, but…yeah, of course Fuku-chan… I’ll go.” Shooting me a final, searching look, she went on her way back upstairs.

When she was out of earshot, I breathed a sigh of relief. “I appreciate the help Satoshi.” “Well, what are friends for, eh? Consider it part of repayment for past services rendered.” I considered his statement for quite a while until we were almost at the bus stop again. “Past services rendered?” I asked, despite knowing that he was referring to the incident of the previous Valentine’s Day when Ibara had asked him for his answer. After all, we had not talked about that night ever since. Satoshi closed his eyes and looked skywards with a pained sort of smile.

We walked side by side at a steady, yet unhurried pace, walking our bicycles alongside. Neither of us suggested riding though. The question hung in the air even as the scenery shifted around us. The sky abandoned its navy, blue robe to reveal a darker hue. The proud mountains, apparently tired of exhibiting their majesty, took to rest with a uniform, regal maroon that did not shine, but stood steadfast with a liquid brilliance.

It was quite a while before Satoshi answered. “I have decided Houtarou.”

Feigning ignorance again, I said “About?”.

Satoshi annoyance in turn, was anything but feigned, “I mean Mayaka of course.” Thoroughly burnt out I could only manage, “Of course… Sorry, I’m just a little tired”. With only a slight hint of his usual smile he went on in a manner as if he were describing the plight of another, gripping the handlebars of his bicycle more strongly than was necessary, “I have decided that I don’t want to disappoint her. She is very special to me, and I would hate to see her hurt, least of all by myself.”

Rather confused. I asked, “So what do you intend to do exactly?”

It took Satoshi a moment or two to reply. “Well… Mayaka is amazing… I… like her… when, you know… when she smiles subconsciously when reading a good book… I like… how she gets all embarrassed when she catches me staring at her doing so… I like her when she smiles at one of my jokes… I like how she berates me for my lame jokes… I like the sound of her laughter… I like the way she gets all riled up when I mess up… I even like how she pretends to hate the idea very idea of you just so I can’t mistake her feelings for me, although you are at fault there too. There is simply no one else like her.”

More anxious than confused now, I could only watch him go on and slow down my pace to stay with him.

Satoshi’s voice had lost about three octaves and was only getting softer as he continued. “But… I don’t like hurting her like this… I don’t like that she stops drawing her manga if I ask her to… I don’t like that I hide from her feelings when she is always so considerate of mine… I don’t like how she has to do all the work here while I just run away. But most of all Houtarou… I hate the idea of losing her… that she will get tired of me and leave… or worse, get tired of me and stay. I don’t want her to be anyone else’s. I don’t want to see her with someone else, but I’m afraid… afraid that I’m not good enough, afraid that she might lose sight of everything that makes her so special because of me. I want her to achieve everything I know she can… but I… I…—” 

Satoshi broke off—apparently overwhelmed. He seemed to have suddenly realized that he was barely even walking now. Fortunately for him, only the farmlands of rice and the mountains were around to witness his plight. The anxiety seemed to be… it was almost as if he had admitted his undying love for a girl to someone for the first time.

I had expected something like this to happen eventually, and at this point was just glad that it was Satoshi who came to me first. Hearing Ibara talk about her feelings like this, in hopes of my advice on how to make Satoshi accept her… I shuddered involuntarily at the thought. Satoshi and I had been friends for a long time… so I considered my answer carefully.

“Satoshi?” I asked cautiously.

“Yeah?” he said in a small, flat voice.

“You said you had decided, right?”.

“Yeah.”

“And you already know what I’m going to say right?”

“Yes.”

“But you want me to say it anyway?”

“I do.”

I heaved a sigh at his response. I had expected as much.

“You love her, right?”

“Well, its—”

“—I know it not that simple. But you love her right?”

“Yeah, I love her… more than anyone.”

“Well that’s important, so what approach is in her best interests considering the difficult path that lies ahead of her regardless of your presence in it?”

“I… don’t know Houtarou.” he said in a meek, despairing sort of voice.

“Of course you don’t. I don’t have a clue either. But here is what we do know: you don’t want to hurt her, you don’t want to lose her, and you want her to be as happy as possible. Luckily for you, she believes she will be happier if you accept her feelings. These feelings don’t seem to have dulled all these past years so it’s safe for us to assume that they’ll be there a while still. So, the question is: How honest are you willing to be with her? How much vulnerable can you be? You don’t want to lose her, so can you recognize her feelings? Or are you willing to hurt her yourself, ask her to wait, and to use that time to build yourself into someone worthy of her, someone who won’t let her be unhappy? Neither path is easy, but you knew as much to begin with. I guess, the best you can hope for is launching an arrow that is reliably on its way to a desired destination… or something.”

Satoshi was gazing into the distance even as my house came into view. He had a rather glazed look on his face, one I could not read (not that I pushed myself to do so). “So, you feel ready now?” I asked tentatively. Satoshi in turn, put on a big smile and responded in a voice eerily similar to his cheeriest, “Yeah… thanks a lot Houtarou, I knew I could count on you. I feel a bit more confident about my way now, even if its not easy. I’m sorry for acting so selfishly when the day has already been so hard on your energy reserves.” He turned around quickly and hopped on his bicycle, saying, “Well, Mayaka must be waiting for someone to vent her anger at, so I’ll get going. You be quick as well, they won’t forgive us if we’re late.” And with a wave of the hand he was off.

He could have just waited for me, and we could have left together, but I was not foolish enough to suggest this. He needed to be alone for now, so did I for that matter.

I took a deep breath, and looked to the heavens. The sun was setting on the horizon: a mirage of epic proportions, this daily miracle of nature captivated my gaze, even as Satoshi rode off into it. Alas, I should have realized, nature played a cruel joke on me in my naiveté. The sun, just before departing, cast golden rays down upon the clouds of billowing smoke, shooting off streaks of bright orange and fire red, where I noticed just as Satoshi disappeared down a slope: tears sparkling in the cruel light of dusk. 

**Author's Note:**

> I do have every intention of continuing this work; however, I don't tend to write on schedules and my time-scales aren't super-normal (at all).
> 
> So don't expect more.
> 
> If it does come...  
> It'll come as a—hopefully—pleasant surprise.
> 
> Your thoughts on this would be appreciated.  
> Your reviews are an important part of what motivates me to write.


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